


In the pass

by BloodthirstyMerc



Series: C is for Common [25]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Breeding, Crying, Eating out, Fear, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infertility, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mental Breakdown, Minor Injuries, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Overprotective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodthirstyMerc/pseuds/BloodthirstyMerc
Summary: “I’m getting you somewhere safe. You’re right, we don’t have the coin or the ingredients. I’m not leaving you to a pack of alphas either. Even if we get to the next town within a day, it’ll be the same situation, and I can’t guarantee there will be contracts there or any way for you to earn some coin. I know the area though, and there’s somewhere we can stay until we’ve worked through this.” And Jaskier isn’t sure that he’s ever heard Geralt plan something out so quickly and reasonably without it being a hunt. There’s a first for everything, he supposes.“You keep saying ‘we’.” Jaskier points out.Geralt stays silent, which is more than enough answer for Jaskier. His gut flutters and he tightens his hold around Geralt’s waist as he rests his head against his back again. Oh.{{First Witcher request}}
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: C is for Common [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1060787
Comments: 14
Kudos: 699
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	In the pass

Jaskier hated the idea of asking Geralt to help him out. He’s not educated in the ways of herbology like Geralt is. He doesn’t make the concoction that omegas take so that they can suppress their heats. He’s not even really sure what ingredients are used in it. Ignorance, the consumer never knows what’s in the things provided for them. He’s always been able to pay for it, has always made sure that he had a vial of it so that he could make it through each month.

But things don’t always go to plan, and sometimes he forgets that they go weeks between stopping in towns, and when they do, he doesn’t pay attention enough to stock up on it when it’s available and he has the coin for it.

Geralt’s been in the rough of it lately, and as much as he isn’t always for spending the coin on rooms for them to stay in, Jaskier knows when the Witcher is on the verge of burning out and needs the proper rest. So, he’s happy to pay for that. Along with ingredients that Geralt can’t forage easily in these parts, relying on herbalists who will keep their plants corralled to one section for the sake of getting their own coin, which Jaskier _gets_ , but it is still frustrating. Which is on top of needing to buy provisions and of course Geralt needed some coin for a blacksmith…

Jaskier cares too much about the Witcher, he decides. Because his own pockets are as dry as the Witcher’s and he realises with a heavy heart as they leave town that he’d completely forgotten about his heat. Which will be starting any day now. And he doesn’t have his suppressants, nor the coin for any. And he doesn’t know how to make it, and he doesn’t want to ask Geralt… but he’s out of options otherwise.

He glances up to Geralt, eyes trailing down the Witcher’s back, watching the movements of his body rocking with each of Roach’s steps. They’d left the town a couple of hours ago now, too long for them to turn back now. And he knows that Geralt will say something about that, but neither of them have the coin for the suppressant. It’s expensive, which leads most omegas to have to go through heats. Which Jaskier also understands but is still a little cruel in his opinion.

“Geralt?” His voice is low because he knows that Geralt will hear him anyway.

Naturally, he gets Geralt’s standard grunt of a reply. Jaskier’s gaze lowers and he fiddles with his fingers. His gut was in knots and he felt so unsure of himself right now.

“What is it, Jaskier?” Geralt asks when the silence has dragged on too long. He doesn’t sound annoyed.

“Do you know what they use in heat suppressants?” Jaskier asks, and his voice is strained, which makes sense given the state he’s allowed himself to fall into.

Geralt doesn’t respond for a moment before he turns his head and glances down to Jaskier. The omega drops his gaze again, feeling shame rise up from his gut, into his chest and onto his face. “I know we were just in town, but I… didn’t have enough coin.”

“I told you, we didn’t need to stay at that inn,” Geralt growls and Jaskier shrinks into himself more. With his heat so close, he’s less snarky and doesn’t have the nerve to growl back at the alpha.

“You were going to burn out,”

“And now you’re going to go into heat. Jaskier, we won’t find what we need out here.” Geralt’s voice is pitched weirdly, and it takes Jaskier a moment to realise; he’s _worried_. Jaskier lets out a slow breath and looks up to Geralt again and offers him a weak smile.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

“Jaskier-”

“ _Geralt_ ,” And Geralt’s stopped Roach, so it’s easy for Jaskier to stare right into Geralt’s golden eyes, holding his gaze captive with his own, brows furrowed enough to show that he’s not about to listen to a lecture from a Witcher, and an alpha at that. “I’ve been through my share of heats. And if it’s going to inconvenience you so much, I’ll head back.” He gestures over his shoulder to the way they came.

Geralt’s lip twitches and Jaskier watches as he struggles to hold back a snarl. “You’re not going back there.”

“What, you think those alphas will try and get in my pants? Maybe they’ll let me sleep in a bed afterwards.” Jaskier scoffs, which apparently is something he shouldn’t have done. Geralt doesn’t look happy now, almost looked pissed off at the thought of Jaskier going anywhere. He finally tears his gaze away and looks up the road.

“Get on,” He growls and Jaskier frowns, blinking up at the Witcher in confusion.

“What?” But Geralt’s holding his hand out for Jaskier to take.

“Get on.” And there’s no room for negotiation or anything with that tone. Jaskier grasps Geralt’s hand and hauls himself up onto the back of Roach. She snorts and shakes her head, and as Jaskier settles himself behind the alpha, he notices the way that Geralt creates a sign. Axii.

“Hold on,” He mutters and Jaskier’s arms come around Geralt’s trim waist instantly as Geralt urges Roach on, building her up to a gallop. Jaskier bites into the inside of his bottom lip and decides that saying anything might not be the best idea right now. He could smell Geralt, determination and frustration. But he doesn’t think it’s directed at him.

The silence follows for a while and not once does Geralt have Roach slow her pace. Jaskier knows that the Witcher knows his mount and knows her limits, but he can’t help but feel the twinge of guilt in his chest for her. Whatever Geralt was up to, it was for him, and so it was his fault that she was being pushed.

“Stop that,” Geralt hisses and Jaskier lifts his head from where he’d been pushing it into Geralt’s back.

“What?”

“I can smell it, she’s fine.” Geralt grunts, confirming Jaskier’s thoughts, but it does nothing to make him feel any better about the situation.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m getting you somewhere safe. You’re right, we don’t have the coin or the ingredients. I’m not leaving you to a pack of alphas either. Even if we get to the next town within a day, it’ll be the same situation, and I can’t guarantee there will be contracts there or any way for you to earn some coin. I know the area though, and there’s somewhere we can stay until we’ve worked through this.” And Jaskier isn’t sure that he’s ever heard Geralt plan something out so quickly and reasonably without it being a hunt. There’s a first for everything, he supposes.

“You keep saying ‘we’.” Jaskier points out.

Geralt stays silent, which is more than enough answer for Jaskier. His gut flutters and he tightens his hold around Geralt’s waist as he rests his head against his back again. _Oh_.

\- - -

Jaskier isn’t sure how long Geralt pushes Roach until he knows that she’s reached her limit. But the change in pace when he allows her to slow, petting her strong neck and muttering words of praise that Jaskier doesn’t fully pick up on, brings Jaskier’s mind back into its focus. They still keep going, but they’re not on a road anymore, and Roach’s steps follow along animal tracks through the shrubs.

Not long after that, Geralt tightens his hold on her rein and she comes to a stop, shaking her head as she snorts a long exhale like she’s sighing. Geralt pats Jaskier’s thigh like maybe he could have fallen asleep before he glances over his shoulder to the omega. “Off,”

And Jaskier has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t retort that a ‘please’ would be nice. He climbs off, and Geralt dismounts as well, stepping up to Roach’s face. And Jaskier never has seen the Witcher show as much affection toward anything or anyone else. He’s not sure what the bond between horse and Witcher is, but it’s clear that there’s a lot of trust between them.

Roach nudges his chest and neck and he runs his fingers over her neck and through her mane, rubs her nose and muzzle and rests his own head against her forehead until her breathing slows, almost as slow as the Witcher’s own. It’s an incredible sight, really, and there’s a part of Jaskier’s mind that tells him to remember this for later when he’s working on a new ballad.

“Come on,” Geralt’s gruff voice snaps him out of it though, and he follows after the Witcher as he takes the mare's rein, and leads Roach on.

The omega stays silent watching the way that Geralt moves through the shrubs in slightly uncoordinated movements. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s because he’s tracking, not just following a clear path. Jaskier tries to look around, tries to figure out where they are or might be close to. But beside where they have come from, learning the continent as they go, he has no clue. He’s never seen this far side of the land before, and he knows that if Geralt hadn’t shown up in that tavern he just so happened to be in too, he more than likely may have never seen this part of the continent either.

Jaskier notices the moment that Geralt’s demeanour changes, and suddenly he isn’t looking anymore, he knows exactly where he is and where he has to go. Jaskier lifts his head and is surprised to see a little building ahead of them, within the pass. It looks run down, but it’s holding up sturdy, at least on the outside. Geralt stops before they get too close and looks back to Jaskier.

“Stay here, I’ll make sure it’s safe.” He says, releasing Roach’s rein, and the mare instantly turns slightly and lowers her head to start grazing, like she too understood what Geralt had said. Jaskier nods and watches as Geralt continues toward the little house, drawing his silver sword. Jaskier steps closer to Roach and reaches out to run his hand over her neck. She doesn’t react, and the omega feels a weird coil of relief in his gut.

Jaskier watches as Geralt forces the door open, the greenery under it trying to hold it in place. And then Geralt steps inside, and the shadows within the house encase him, and Jaskier can’t see him anymore. He turns his gaze back to Roach, knowing that Geralt is more than equipped enough for whatever might be hiding in the house.

It doesn’t take long before Geralt whistles, and Roach lifts her head, whinnying softly as she trots over to the house. Jaskier follows after her as Geralt comes from around the side of the house, meeting the omegas gaze.

“We can stay here, no one will even catch your scent this far up the pass.”

“How did you know about this place?” Jaskier asks, still following as Geralt takes Roach’s rein again and leads her around to the back, where there’s an old, but usable stall, feeder and trough set up. Jaskier is honestly impressed.

“Did a contract… maybe a decade or so ago for the people that used to live here. A couple years later, winter was coming up and I knew that I wasn’t going to make it back to the keep. I headed up here to see if they would offer to care for Roach for some coin for a few weeks as I worked a contract in the pass. The owners were dead, some disease. Buried them in the back. No one’s ever found this place, otherwise, someone would have moved in or destroyed it by now. If I’m out this way close to winter, I stay here.” Geralt explains as he starts cleaning out the trough with his hands.

Jaskier rests his hand on Roach’s side, who looks impatient to have a drink but is keeping herself out of Geralt’s way. “Home away from home,” he supplies, and Geralt shrugs as he tips the mucky water from the trough, before setting it up so that it can refill.

“Something like that,” He grunts as he steps up to Roach and starts working on getting her gear off. “You can head inside if you want.”

Jaskier nods but holds his hand out to take one of Geralt’s packs from him. The Witcher passes it over, and like always, it’s so much heavier than it looks with Geralt slinging it around like it weighs about as much as a leaflet of paper.

Jaskier carries it through the back door, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The windows are boarded up, but there’s just enough light streaming through the gaps in them and the open back and front door, that Jaskier is able to navigate his way around. He finds the bedroom, given away by the candles on either side of a decent-sized slab of stone on the floor. A bed, that Jaskier realised, will be big enough for the both of them and their begging. He swallows a little thickly and thinks about how Geralt had kept saying “we”. He’s not sure what to think about it, and again, Geralt's silence to the question makes him think there might be more.

Jaskier shakes his head and rests Geralt’s packs down in the corner before he looks around the rest of the house. Which to say, there isn’t much else. The bedroom is only segregated by a wall that spans about three quarters the width of the house, no door. And the rest of the house is clearly a kitchen and communal area. The table is gone, but there’s stumps on the floor and Jaskier wonders if Geralt even uses the bed, or if he sets up camp in this space closer to the kitchen, closer to the fire.

Geralt comes in, carrying the rest of their things. Jaskier holds his hands out again for the other pack, but Geralt waves him off. “I’ll get a fire started soon,”

“Do you want me to do anything?”

“You can set up the bed, however you want, it is for you.”

“You’re not going to join me?” And Jaskier realises what he’s asking the moment the words have left his mouth.

Geralt pauses in the doorway of the room and Jaskier curses under his breath and turns his head away. He doesn’t want to meet Geralt’s gaze when the alpha looks back to him, but he feels the weight of his stare.

“I didn’t say that,” Geralt murmurs and Jaskier’s heart stutters in his chest. He looks back up at Geralt with clear shock on his face. “You really think that the two of us ignoring each other while you’re in heat is going to benefit either of us?”

“I… suppose not,” And he has no idea how his voice sounds so smooth right now because Jaskier feels like his whole world has been tipped upside down.

“Besides, you’re already starting to smell, and as a Witcher, I have restraint, as an alpha I don’t.” Geralt turns again and moves into the room to set everything out. Jaskier stares where he’d been standing, his heart in his throat. _Oh, Gods._

\- - -

As it was expected, within the next few days, Jaskier’s heat hit him. He could feel the knots his stomach was tying itself into, until he wakes one morning, later than he normally would, and those knots had tightened as much as they physically could. His stomach cramps and Jaskier fails to hold back a weak whimper. He lifts his head and looks over his shoulder where he knew Geralt was last night and isn’t surprised to see the Witcher gone. The room is light from the sun outside and warm. He sits up, curling in on himself as he closes his eyes and tries to even out his breathing.

He knows Geralt won’t be far, that he goes out hunting in the early mornings and late evenings, the best time for deer and rabbits. He could be out the back with Roach too, but either way, if he isn’t here, he won’t be gone long. Jaskier sighs and shuffles to the edge of the bed, running his hand through his hair. He can feel the slick between his thighs, can smell the heavy scent of his heat and he grits his teeth. When was the last time he actually went through a heat? He wasn’t entirely sure.

Before he can get himself to his feet, he hears movement in the doorway and lifts his head. Geralt’s trying to give him an assuring smile, but it’s a little stiff, just like his shoulders are. Jaskier swallows, his gaze drawn to the food and drink Geralt’s holding in his hands. “I heard you,” Geralt explains and Jaskier nods. So, he wasn’t far.

He comes into the room, steps slow and cautious as he approaches Jaskier. He sits beside him and holds out the food in offering. “You’re going to need it.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier murmurs as he takes it, instantly taking a sip of the drink, setting it down on the floor at his feet before he digs in so that he doesn’t have to say anything else. Geralt wets his lips, Jaskier sees the movement from the corner of his eye, and he feels his cock twitch.

“Your scent has been driving me crazy for almost an hour. I thought about heading out… but I know you need me here.” Geralt mentions and Jaskier cringes a little.

“Sorry. You don’t have to do this, Geralt.” Jaskier murmurs, swallowing his mouthful, quickly stuffing more food in his mouth instantly afterwards.

Geralt scoffs and turns his body more into Jaskier. He pauses in chewing when the Witcher reaches up and pulls the collar of his shirt off his shoulder more. He leans in and Jaskier almost chokes on the food in his mouth when Geralt presses his nose against his scent gland. Jaskier groans softly and barely manages to get his mouth working again to chew his food so he _doesn’t_ choke.

“Like I could ignore you right now,” And Geralt’s voice is almost a low growl, sending a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. _Holy fuck_.

“Gods… alpha,” Jaskier sighs, tipping his head a little, which urges Geralt on more. Jaskier almost knocks over his drink when he sets his breakfast down on the floor and turns himself to crawl into Geralt’s lap. Rough hands grip his hips and Geralt pulls their bodies firmly together as his mouth opens and his teeth graze over Jaskier’s scent gland.

Jaskier presses his hips into Geralt’s body, his hands coming up to tangle in strands of white hair. He presses his own nose against the top of Geralt’s head, eyes falling closed as he loses himself in the feeling of Geralt’s mouth against his neck. And the desperate part of him, the heat addled part of his brain tells him to beg for Geralt’s mark, for Geralt’s teeth to sink into his skin and bind them together. But the rest of his brain tells it to shut up.

“So much for breakfast,” Jaskier chuckles, and Geralt gives a grunt against his skin. His arms come around Jaskier’s waist and hold him tight against his body. Geralt stands, holding the omega against his body as he turns and crawls back onto the bed, laying Jaskier out under him.

Jaskier’s hands fall to his waist and hook in the hem of his shirt, and thank the gods that Geralt’s not wearing any fucking armour right now. He tugs up, fighting with the Witcher’s own movements as he continues his assault on Jaskier’s neck, sucking and mouthing at his scent gland, slowly reducing Jaskier to nothing but a puddle under his ministrations. Jaskier finally gets the shirt up under Geralt’s armpits, and Geralt gets the hint. He sits up and pulls the shirt off, his medallion falling back against his chest, and for a moment Jaskier just watches it swing around, bounce off muscle and finally come to rest, tangled around itself. Until Geralt leans forward again and it hangs between them, spinning until it’s untangled, the wolf is staring right back at Jaskier.

Jaskier’s hands come up to Geralt’s sides, fingers trailing over skin to find scars to trace as Geralt ducks his head again and presses his mouth to Jaskier’s throat again. “Gods, you’re gonna kill me.”

Geralt doesn’t even make a noise in response, but his hands do trail down Jaskier’s body, touch light and teasing before they press into the bed on either side of his frame. And then Geralt’s moving down Jaskier’s body. His mouth trails down his chest, tongue pressing into the fabric of his shirt so Jaskier can feel it through the material as he moves down further and further. He stops for a moment at the exposed skin of Jaskier’s stomach, teeth and tongue meeting skin, making the muscle twitch. Jaskier whimpers, sucking in a breath as Geralt mouths a mark into his belly, and it burns hot like the marks alpha left on his neck.

Geralt’s knuckles dig into his skin when he grips Jaskier’s pants and pulls them down his hips and off his thighs. Jaskier draws his knees up to his body to help Geralt tug them off fully. He goes to sit up, but before he can, Geralt grabs the back of his knees and pushes them hard into his body again, pinning him down, and holding him open and exposed. Jaskier moans softly, his cock throbbing and he knows that his hole is a mess of slick, fluttering eagerly having an alpha so fucking close to it.

Geralt lifts his gaze for a moment, and the omega gets caught in the golden stare, momentarily caught off guard from the desire burning in his eyes. Jaskier’s lips part and he reaches down to take his cock in hand, giving himself a slow stroke. And how he’s not fully hard and leaking, he doesn’t know yet, but it won’t take much from here.

Geralt’s head dips down again and he kisses around the base of Jaskier’s cock, tilting his head to press his tongue to Jaskier’s balls for the barest of contact before he tips his chin up and his tongue swipes over the slick against Jaskier’s rim.

“Fuck,” Jaskier sighs, loud and throaty as he tips his head back. Geralt’s tongue delves against him over and over, like he could possibly lick up all the slick that Jaskier’s body is producing right now. The muscle is already relaxed, but the rough treatment of Geralt’s tongue has him opening up more, and when Geralt presses his tongue into his body, he knows that he won’t even need full prep to take the Witcher’s cock.

Geralt groans, and Jaskier tips his head down to get a look at him. He catches the way that the alphas shoulders shudder, his eyes closed but not tight like he just isn’t able to keep them from fluttering shut. Jaskier bites into his bottom lip, still stroking himself slowly as he watches Geralt get lost in eating him out for a moment.

Until his body is sensitive, and his thighs shake from the burn between them. Geralt must pick up on the change in the hitch of Jaskier’s breath because he pulls his tongue back. He kisses Jaskier’s hole, kisses the skin around it covered in slick and spit, kisses the burns on his thighs before he lifts his head a little more. And Jaskier’s hand falls away from his cock to make room for Geralt’s tongue trailing up the underside of his length.

“You’re such a pretty omega,” Geralt praises, and Jaskier whimpers softly, his lip turning up slightly in a smirk. Geralt releases his hold on Jaskier’s legs and he spreads them around the alphas head, propping himself up a little now that he can move.

“I’m only pretty as an omega?” Jaskier asks teasingly. Geralt snorts and shrugs his shoulders, his tongue pressing to the underside of the head of Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier whines, fingers twitching at his sides as he ignores the want to grip the Witcher’s hair.

“Your words, not mine.” And then Geralt’s gripping the base of Jaskier’s cock and holding it straight as he closes his mouth around the tip. Jaskier exhales sharply, his eyes fluttering a little, but he manages to keep them open to watch as Geralt slowly starts to work his cock.

The omega can’t find any reason to complain at all about the statement, finding there would be no point anyway as he watches Geralt with hooded eyes. And it’s been too long since someone’s gone down on him because he can’t remember a time that it’s ever felt this good. Geralt’s tongue curls around the underside, and when he pulls up, he allows his teeth to graze just the barest against the top of his cock, making Jaskier’s hips jolt, the muscles in his thighs clenching.

Jaskier watches as his hair falls over his shoulders, framing around his face and once again, the alpha's eyes fall closed as he strokes the base of Jaskier’s cock, and sucks the rest of his length like he was born to do it. His tongue is firm against him, and the heat, the wet warmth encasing him is driving Jaskier insane. Maybe it’s his heat racing through his veins, making it feel like this is the most mind-blowing oral he’s ever received, or Geralt really knows his way around a cock.

“So good,” Jaskier sighs when he can’t keep his eyes on Geralt anymore and his head tips back. His hands come up to run through Geralt’s hair, to hold his head, but he doesn’t control the alphas movements at all. Geralt hums around his length, and Jaskier hisses, whimpering loud as the vibrations have his cock twitching between Geralt’s lips.

“I-is it custom that Witcher’s aren’t big talkers because their mouths are better for other uses?” Jaskier asks, laughing at his own statement. And the noise Geralt makes tells him he’s not amused with the statement, which makes Jaskier’s smirk widen into a toothy grin. “You’re so good at this,” And he hopes the praise will ensure that Geralt won’t bite his dick because he’s being a smartass.

Geralt’s hands come up to grip Jaskier’s thighs a few moments later, thumbs rubbing into the skin there, fingers digging into flesh like he’s trying to pry Jaskier open. Jaskier’s eyes blink open and he tips his head down again. Geralt’s heated gaze meets his own, and Geralt tips his head more and takes his cock further, almost takes his whole length, before he pulls up and Jaskier’s cock falls from his mouth. Jaskier moans softly, his chest heaving slightly from how worked up Geralt has gotten him.

The alpha crawls up his body, and Jaskier’s bottom lip quivers a little as he stares at him, as the Witcher ducks his head again, presses his mouth to Jaskier’s jaw once more. Jaskier closes his eyes and tries to ignore the fact that he can tell Geralt is avoiding kissing him. Which is a reminder that he’s only doing this to help, not because he wants to be with Jaskier.

“You’re thinking too much.” Geralt murmurs against his skin and Jaskier turns his head a little and lets out a breath. He swallows and brings his hands back to Geralt’s sides, pressing his feet into the bed to push his hips up into Geralt’s own. The drag of their cocks together, even though Geralt’s still in his fucking pants helps distract his thoughts a little.

Geralt gives a low growl and his teeth graze over Jaskier’s skin again, and it’s so hard to ignore the voice in his head begging for the alpha to claim him when he does that. “You have no idea what that does to me,” Jaskier mutters, turning his head into Geralt’s own neck, pressing his own mouth to Geralt’s scent gland. He mouths at it, grazes his own teeth against it and gets the reaction he was hoping for.

Geralt’s back dips, hips pinning Jaskier into the bed as he ruts into the omega, head tipping back a little as he moans, louder than any noise Jaskier will get out of him after this. Jaskier’s fingers shake against Geralt’s skin, and he lifts his hand to grab hold of the alpha’s hair, but Geralt’s pushing himself away before Jaskier can get the grip he wants. He whimpers and Geralt licks his lips again and trails his fingers down Jaskier’s still covered chest.

“Turn over,” Geralt’s voice is gruff like he’s never heard it before, and Jaskier is too happy to oblige. Geralt grabs his thigh from around his body and turns his hips as Jaskier rolls over and gets himself on his hands and knees in front of the alpha.

He looks over his shoulder and watches Geralt push his pants down, kicking them off once they’re past his knees. And it sets in then; this is happening. Geralt strokes his cock, slow and firm, and Jaskier can already imagine just how good it’s going to feel with his knot locking them together. And even if it already wasn’t an issue, he knows he won’t have to at all worry about conceiving. Even if a small part of him wishes that when he was ready, he could, at least they can get away with Geralt filling him without having to worry about it today.

Geralt’s other hand smooths over his ass, and Jaskier spreads his knees a little wider. He sighs, the noise morphing into a little grunt when Geralt’s fingers, two of them, slide effortlessly into his body and curl into his prostate. His body is more than ready, even if Geralt hadn’t eaten him out, he would have been. One plus side to being an omega, he supposes. Geralt still takes some time to work him on his fingers, twisting and pumping them into Jaskier’s body smoothly.

Jaskier bows his head and his cock throbs from the feeling. It’s not enough for his heat addled brain, but if he wasn’t in heat right now, Geralt could get him to come like this and he would be satisfied. But like this, he needs more, and they both know it, the point proven as more slick trails down Jaskier’s thighs. He’s wetter than he’s ever been, and the sound of Geralt’s slick fingers pulling out his body has heat rising on Jaskier’s cheeks.

He feels Geralt’s warmth behind him as the Witcher pushes their bodies together. Jaskier’s fingers twist in the furs under him as he feels Geralt’s cock slide against his hole before thumbs are pressing into the meat of his ass and spreading him open. He closes his eyes, holds his breath until he feels the blunt head of Geralt’s cock against his rim. He exhales, slow and deep as Geralt sinks into his body. Jaskier’s head tips back slightly and opens up his throat for a low moan as Geralt’s hips meet his own.

“Gods,” Geralt groans, his hands smoothing up Jaskier’s sides slowly, tucking under his shirt to trail rough fingers along his skin. Jaskier shudders under the touch and glances back over his shoulder to watch Geralt as he gives a small rock of his hips. “You’re a prime omega, Jaskier.”

The compliment has Jaskier whimpering, even though it’s not true. Prime would mean he’s able to breed, which he isn’t. But he doesn’t correct Geralt. Jaskier shifts and goes to pull his shirt off, only for Geralt’s fingers to catch in the fabric and keep him from being able to do so. “Keep it on,”

Jaskier makes a confused noise, but again, he doesn’t disagree with the alpha. Geralt shifts against him before he pulls back and thrusts back into his body roughly, _finally_ , fucking into Jaskier properly. The omega’s cock twitches, his breath hitching as he tenses the muscles in his arms to push himself back against Geralt’s thrusts firmly.

“Yes, fuck you feel so good, alpha.” Jaskier whines, voice cracking when Geralt’s hips meet his own harder. Geralt’s fingers slip over his skin, continuing to change their hold on his body, and something about the inconsistent touch is driving Jaskier completely insane.

His eyes are unfocused, his gut is in knots and he can feel the slick being _fucked_ from his body with every drawback of Geralt’s hips. Geralt suddenly leans over Jaskier’s body, pressing his weight into him and Jaskier’s arms nearly give out. Geralt’s hair falls over Jaskier’s shoulders as the alpha’s mouth meets the side of his neck and Jaskier gasps, tilting his head on impulse.

“How do you like it, songbird? Tell me how you want me to fuck you.” Geralt murmurs against the shell of Jaskier’s ear. The bard’s eyes roll shut, and he whimpers. Having an alpha ask what he wants, rather than just taking it for himself makes Jaskier’s gut flutter weirdly. He blinks his eyes open and turns his head just enough to try to look at Geralt.

“Y-you can be rough,” Jaskier says and Geralt growls low in his throat, making Jaskier’s hole clench around his cock, his eyes sliding shut again.

“That’s not what I asked,”

“ _Please_ , please be rough with me.” Jaskier almost cries out. Geralt pulls away so suddenly from Jaskier’s back that a strike of fear shoots through Jaskier’s heart. But before he can react, his shirt is being yanked back, the front of the collar sliding up to press into his throat as Geralt grips it tight in his fist and starts fucking him so much harder.

Jaskier does cry out then, head thrown back, which only allows Geralt to pull harder on the shirt as he pounds into the omegas body. Jaskier’s thighs tremble, his arms barely holding him up from the way that Geralt is managing to hold him up with the grip on his clothing. And it’s exactly what Jaskier was looking for. The hard, quick snaps of Geralt’s hips leave enough of a sting in his skin to get him shaking, but the pull on his body isn’t enough to hurt too much. It’s somehow perfect like his alpha just knows his limits.

Jaskier’s gasping and moaning louder than he intends in no time. His eyes won’t stay closed, but he can’t keep them focused either as Geralt fucks into his body. The noises coming from the Witcher are almost enough to make Jaskier want to gag himself, just so he can hear them better. He sounds better than what Jaskier could have ever known.

Geralt’s hand suddenly leaves his hip and comes up around his front. Fingers splay out over Jaskier’s chest and the Witcher pulls Jaskier up. The omega’s back hits the alpha’s chest and the gip of his shirt falls away, leaving Jaskier more room to breathe again. He gasps and whimpers as the hand on his chest comes up to grip his throat. But Geralt’s hold isn’t firm, barely holds onto him as his other hand comes to rest on his belly. The tips of Geralt’s medallion dig into Jaskier’s spine, making him arch more. But weirdly enough, it doesn’t hurt, and he doesn’t want to complain about it.

“Beg me for it,” Geralt murmurs into Jaskier’s ear, his breath hot on his skin. And again, Jaskier finds himself tipping his head to expose his neck more for the alpha, submitting to him, thanks to his heat.

“Please, Geralt. Fucking pound me, I want it!” Jaskier’s voice croaks and if his face wasn’t already red and hot, he’d be heating up from the embarrassment of the sound. But Geralt has no care for it at all if the sound he gives is any indication.

His hips move harder, faster, and Jaskier isn’t sure if that’s a Witcher thing or just _Geralt,_ but it doesn’t matter. The alpha’s cock rams right into Jaskier’s prostate, hitting the gland dead on. Jaskier’s back arches, he cries out and his body on impulse tries to flinch away from the rough abuse. Geralt’s grip only tightens enough to hold him in place atop his thighs, but no more than that. Jaskier’s cock drools on this skin and his mouth hangs open on a silent scream.

Geralt’s hips piston into him, pounding him roughly, stimulating his prostate until Jaskier’s throat is raw from his moans and whines of pleasure. He’s shaking against Geralt’s body, and he feels too hot, his eyes are so unfocused, and his body is in _heaven_. It’s not rough enough to hurt, even with how fast Geralt’s thrusts are. Jaskier’s toes curl and his gut twists so tight that Jaskier isn’t sure that he’s still breathing.

Then Geralt’s hands come away from his body before the alpha shoves him forward. Jaskier doesn’t can’t himself on his hands, but he doubts he’d have been able to hold himself up when Geralt’s hand grips the back of his hair and keeps him pinned down, cheek pressed into the bed.

“Oh fuck, Geralt!” Jaskier shouts, his whole body feeling like it’s on fire as the alpha’s body crowds over his again, pinning him down against the bed fully. The change in angle doesn’t have Geralt’s cock stimulating his prostate head-on, but somehow it feels even better to be held down like this.

Geralt’s mouth presses to Jaskier’s neck, and for the briefest second, Jaskier feels the drag of Geralt’s teeth against his skin. Jaskier whimpers, whines and clenches hard on Geralt’s cock. He sobs softly and doesn’t realise that he’s begging until Geralt’s fingers leave his hair and instead push into his mouth, effectively stopping him from being able to use words, and he resorts back to whimpering pathetically.

“Fuck Jaskier,” Geralt hisses, and his voice is strained like the bard has only ever heard it once when Geralt was in physical pain. He whimpers, and Geralt’s teeth graze against his neck again, pushing hard into the skin before Geralt’s _snarling_ and suddenly, he’s biting into the collar of Jaskier’s shirt, _hard_. Hard enough that Jaskier hears the way Geralt’s jaw cracks under the force.

Jaskier’s orgasm crashes over him with the sound still echoing in his head, so suddenly that he screams around Geralt’s fingers. Geralt snarls again, teeth grinding together around the material clenched in his jaw as the alpha’s forehead presses hard into Jaskier’s neck. And Jaskier’s scream cuts off when Geralt thrusts harder into his body, hard enough for a weak whine of pain to come from the omega. But it’s not enough for him to panic when it’s just the one thrust, deep into him before he feels the hot, wet spurt of Geralt’s come inside him. Jaskier whimpers pathetically, drooling around Geralt’s fingers as he feels the alpha’s knot swelling, stretching him wider, making him squirm and try to spread his legs wider to accommodate the added girth.

Geralt’s trembling against him, and Jaskier whimpers and turns his head, forcing Geralt’s fingers from his mouth. He nuzzles against Geralt’s hair, panting and whining as his body is filled. “T-thank you, fuck Geralt… f-feels so good, you make me feel so good,” He murmurs, and Geralt gives a whine in response, teeth still holding Jaskier’s shirt between them.

Jaskier exhales shakily and drops his head into the furs on the bed, his hips only held up by the knot locking them together. And he realises when Geralt gives another whimper before his tongue is pressing to Jaskier’s scent gland, that Geralt had almost _claimed_ him in the heat of the moment, and his body had reacted instantly, coming without warning. Jaskier whimpers and bites his own lip as Geralt continues to mouth at his neck softly.

Jaskier isn’t aware of how long they stay like that, with Geralt mouthing at his neck as he rubs his belly softly and his knot keeps them pressed together. He might have blacked out at some point, or just zoned out from the feeling of Geralt’s palm against his stomach, making conflicting feelings swell in his chest. But Geralt’s hand slipping away forces Jaskier to focus again, and he whines when Geralt’s mouth moves away from his neck.

“Jaskier,” And Geralt’s voice is low and soft, making those twisting feelings feel like they stab into his heart. Jaskier holds back a whimper and lifts his head just enough to crane his neck and look over his shoulder to the alpha. His eyes are still struggling to focus, but he meets golden eyes and his belly flips. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” And Jaskier didn’t realise how raw his throat still was until the word came out all raspy and quiet. He swallows and tries clearing his throat, hoping it will help. Geralt’s hand runs up his side slowly and the alpha nods.

“I’m going to move, tell me if it hurts too much, okay?” Geralt asks and Jaskier nods, already figuring that Geralt will lay them down, knowing that moving while being knotted can be awkward and uncomfortable. He shifts with Geralt’s movements and relaxes back against Geralt’s chest when they’re laying down, legs tangling together.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says again, his voice a lot stronger this time.

Geralt hums as he normally would and it weirdly makes Jaskier feel like it puts distance between them again, despite the fact that they’re _connected_. His stomach churns unpleasantly and Jaskier holds back a whimper. He grips his pillow and pushes his face into it and tries to ignore the fact that he smells entirely like Geralt.

\- - -

The next few days aren’t much different. Jaskier wakes up in the thick of his heat and Geralt helps him through it. Jaskier doesn’t voice his desire for different positions, and figures that it’s easier for Geralt to not have to face him. Maybe it’s the alpha instinct that keeps Geralt biting into anything _but_ Jaskier’s neck that needs him not to face Jaskier. And maybe it’s that same instinct that keeps him from kissing him too. Maybe he’ll lose control of himself if he lets them get too intimate like that. All Jaskier knows is that once they’re knotted, Geralt turns weirdly stiff and cold toward him. It’s like they never went through it together like Geralt hadn’t offered to help. Geralt looks after him and takes care of him afterwards before they go on their day, but the way that Geralt turns almost silent toward Jaskier afterwards makes Jaskier’s chest ache in ways that it hasn’t in years.

Jaskier wakes up with Geralt still in bed with him, which isn’t common, even with how they’ve been working through their week. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets Geralt’s eye instantly. He pauses, his tongue feeling too heavy for him to find his words. Geralt just stares back, like he’s waiting for Jaskier to say something first. He sits up when he realises that Jaskier’s not going to speak and pulls his hair back from his face. He pulls the tie out and redoes it.

“Your scent has changed.” He notes and Jaskier turns back how he was laying and stares at the wall in front of him.

“I feel better,” He murmurs. Geralt makes a noise and climbs out of the bed.

“We’ll stay here again tonight, tomorrow we can go back on the road.” Geralt says and Jaskier’s gut twists uncomfortably.

“Why did you help me if you hated it so much?” Jaskier asks. He hears Geralt’s movements pause before they pick up again, sounding more rushed, more aggravated in the way that he snatches up his clothing.

“I didn’t hate it. You’re looking for an alpha to stay with, and it’s not me.” Geralt mutters before he leaves the room. Jaskier feels like his insides are withering, trying to force their way out of his body. He closes his eyes and listens to Geralt leave the cabin, trying to keep himself from crying. It would do nothing to change the situation and would only make him feel worse.

\- - -

Geralt keeps to his word, and they leave the next day. Jaskier is admittedly surprised that Geralt pulls him up onto Roach again and allows him to ride with him. But he is drained still, tired and a little sore, so he is grateful and does thank Geralt, even if he only gets more dismissive grunts in response.

The next town they get to, Geralt spends his last coin on getting suppressants for Jaskier and tells him that if he’s ever in a position where he can’t afford them again, to tell him. The way that Geralt says it leaves Jaskier feeling shittier than he already was. But he doesn’t address it, what good would it do?

The coming week between them is stiff and uncomfortable in ways that it never has been. Jaskier ends up walking at Roach’s side again, and no conservation is exchanged between them. When Jaskier tries to turn to his lute, his heart isn’t in it, and he ends up putting it away each time without even strumming a single note. They stay time and time again on the road in their bedrolls, with an uncomfortable amount of distance between them.

It’s nearly two weeks since Jaskier’s heat before Geralt gets another contract. And as he normally would, Jaskier follows Geralt out into the fields as the Witcher hunts down a Nekker nest. He follows at a reasonable distance, caught up in his own thoughts. He wants to address the situation with Geralt, but he has no idea where to start. He can’t apologise for being an omega, and he shouldn’t anyway. He’s not the one who _offered_ to help. Geralt offered, and then Geralt turned cold toward him like he forced him into the situation.

He knows that he can’t ask Geralt what his problem is directly, the alpha won’t answer. He knows he can’t make accusations, because if he’s wrong, Geralt will only get mad and things will go from bad to worse. So, he’s stumped, and trying to figure out what to say is slowly driving him insane. Running circles in his own head. But he can’t let this silence that’s choking them keep existing, he wants to say something, he wants to know what to do to fix this.

He lifts his head, mouth opening just in time to watch Geralt tense up and his head whip around to him fast enough that Jaskier’s neck twinges in sympathy pain. But it’s short-lived when he hears a growl at his side. It happens fast, and Jaskier’s been around Geralt long enough to know when to move. He doesn’t even look, just runs forward at the same time that Geralt unsheathes his sword and dismounts Roach as fast as he can probably move. Jaskier only looks over his shoulder when he hears the Nekker screech in pain.

There’s more than one rushing at Geralt, but Jaskier knows better than to worry about the Witcher. A few Nekker’s isn’t something he can’t handle. But it’s when Roach _squeals_ that Jaskier’s heart rate really picks up and he turns again to see the mare bucking and stomping before she takes off. And the Nekker that had been trying to get at her turns its attention to him. His heart lodges itself in his throat and he knows that he can’t outrun the thing, but he starts running _anyway_.

“ _Geralt_ ,” And he knows his voice shows how scared he is, he can hear the panic in his tone. The Nekker catches him, claws digging into his leg before Geralt even has time to react to Jaskier’s call. In his panic, Jaskier tries to stay on his feet, tries to pull himself away as claws rip into his skin.

It feels like he blinks and Geralt is at his side, slicing the creature's head clean off its shoulders. Geralt’s arm comes around Jaskier’s torso, fingers digging into him and Geralt keeps Jaskier behind him, backs toward as he backs up, forcing Jaskier to move forward.

“How bad is it?” Geralt hisses and there’s too much adrenaline racing through Jaskier’s body for him to really know. He can feel the throbbing pain, he can feel the blood running down his leg, but he’s not sure if there’s as much as it feels like, or if his mind is just telling him that it’s _really bad_.

“I-I don’t know. I can put pressure on it,” Jaskier blurts out quickly, his heart racing in his chest as Geralt keeps forcing him back.

Geralt’s hand comes away from Jaskier’s body and the bard turns, staying behind Geralt as he lifts his fingers and whistles. The alpha glances back over his shoulder, his eyes instantly falling to Jaskier’s leg. “It didn’t bite you?”

“No,” Jaskier says, his voice shaking as much as he is.

“You’re taking Roach and getting out of here, wait for me at the crossroads. Don’t stay in the open, lay low.” Geralt commands and even if Jaskier wasn’t panicking, he would agree without a shred of complaint. Nekker’s were nothing compared to what he’s watched Geralt fight, but he knows they can be overwhelming, and if he had to worry about Jaskier’s whereabouts, it’ll just be a harder fight for him.

Jaskier sees Roach galloping toward them and Geralt moves forward and races at the Nekker’s again. Jaskier runs for the mare and intercepts her, and he’s just glad that she’s gotten used to him because he knows that she doesn’t take a liking to most people and wouldn’t let him mount her if she wasn’t familiar with him. And he’s also glad that he’s been around Geralt enough to know the basics when it comes to riding, and he pushes her on and heads back the way they came. He glances over his shoulder just in time to watch Geralt set fire to most of the Nekker’s before him.

It takes him a little longer than he wants to admit to find the crossroad again, with the adrenaline pumping through him and so many thoughts racing in his head, he’s disorientated for a while before he figures it out. Once the feeling of being overwhelmed seeps away some. He leads Roach into the trees, finding a place in the area that’s a little more hidden and dismounts. He drops to the ground, instantly allowing himself to drop to his ass.

And now that his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest, the pain in his leg is catching up to him. He rolls the shredded leg of his pants up and inspects the wound. There’s a lot of blood and the wounds are filled with dirt from the scuffle, but they don’t look nearly as bad as they feel. They’re not too deep.

But everything is crashing down on him, and he had every intention to get out some supplies from Roach’s saddlebags to help clean up the wound and slow the bleeding at the least, not trusting himself enough right now to remember what slaves are for what, what would kill him and what would help. But none of that matters, because everything is catching up to him and he starts to shake before a sob forces its way from his chest.

Jaskier grips his hair and hangs his head as he breaks down and starts crying. Too much was happening right now. He could have died, all because he went through a heat and now things with Geralt feel off, all because he allowed himself to get caught up in his own head. He shakes and he sobs as he tries to catch his breath and regain himself.

He curls in on himself and tries to quiet himself so that if anyone happens to pass by, they don’t hear him and come over to him. He’s almost gotten his crying to settle down completely when he hears Geralt, and he knows it’s him with the way he moves, with the noises of metal and leather mingling together with his movements. He lifts his head, still snuffling as Geralt steps into his view. And he sees the concern flash over Geralt’s eyes. He drops the Nekker head he’d been carrying beside Roach and starts rummaging through one of his packs instantly.

Jaskier bites into his lip as Geralt comes over to him and drops to his knees, taking hold of Jaskier’s ankle and he looks over the wound. He tries to stop his snuffling, but he’s not able to as he watches Geralt start silently working on cleaning up the wound before he patches him up. Geralt says nothing, and it makes Jaskier’s throat feel like it’s tightening all over again. He grits his teeth, thinks about biting his own tongue to stop himself from saying anything, but he can’t ignore it.

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out and his voice cracks, hitching as he turns his head away. He can’t help that more tears fall though. Jaskier catches the movement of Geralt lifting his head through the corner of his eye and he tenses up, not sure what the Witcher is going to say.

“This isn’t your fault. I should have known they were coming.”

“I’m not apologising for that.” Jaskier hisses, gritting his teeth again. He’s not going to apologise for being attacked. “I’m sorry I went into heat, I’m sorry you had to put up with me during that. I should have remembered I needed suppressants. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

Geralt’s head lowers again and Jaskier feels that he continues to work on his wound. He tries not to complain about how much it hurts, but Jaskier knows Geralt can hear the little hitches in his breath and the way that he holds back his whimpers.

“Is that why you’re so upset?” Geralt asks, obviously figuring that the wound isn’t enough to have Jaskier breaking down the way he had. Which it wasn't. The wound felt like nothing compared to the pain in his heart and the sick feeling in his gut.

“You’re so cold toward me now, why didn’t you just… leave me be? I would have been fine, and you wouldn’t have felt forced into bed with me.”

“I didn’t feel forced,”

“Bullshit,” Jaskier snarls, finally looking at Geralt. The Witcher stops what he’s doing and meets Jaskier’s gaze. And he looks as thrown off as Jaskier expected. Good. But as he opens his mouth to speak, something flashes in Geralt’s eyes, and he swallows his own words and almost shrinks back into himself.

“If I didn’t want to help you, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t force myself to sleep with you. I just wanted to help.” And Geralt sounds borderline pissed off, but Jaskier isn’t going to stop pushing when he’s getting more out of him now than he has since he’s known the Witcher.

“Because you care so much that you’ve been acting like I don’t exist since it happened.” Jaskier sneers, and it’s bold to be poking at a pissed off alpha, and even more bold to be poking at a pissed off Witcher, and again, _bold_ to be poking at him when his hands are on a fresh wound.

“You want an alpha that you can mate with and that’s not me!” Geralt shouts, throwing Jaskier completely off guard, making him jump. He stares wide-eyed at Geralt as the alpha turns back to Jaskier’s wound and continues wrapping his leg. “You can’t be with me Jaskier, and this, you getting fucking hurt is exactly one of the biggest reasons why.”

Geralt ties off the wrap and pushes himself to his feet. He stands over the omega, which has Jaskier’s heart beating in his throat. “I’m taking you back to town, I’m getting my pay, and you’re staying there.”

“W-what? You’re just going to leave me behind just because I’m an omega?”

“No. I’m leaving you there because I won’t be the reason you get killed.” And it’s there again, that worry in Geralt’s voice that Jaskier isn’t used to hearing. He stares up at the alpha as he steps away from him, putting the remainder of what he’d used on Jaskier’s wound back into the saddlebag. Jaskier’s chest aches, more than he’s ever felt it ache in his entire life.

Geralt glances over his shoulder to him and Jaskier hates that he can’t see any emotion in Geralt’s eyes, hates that the Witcher is so good at hiding how he’s feeling. Because he knows that Geralt cares about him, he does. And he knows that Geralt doesn’t want him to get hurt, but that his way of protecting people means pushing them away and hurting them by doing it. Jaskier turns his gaze away and slowly gets to his feet, and either it’s whatever salve that Geralt put on the wound, or just the fact that the adrenaline isn’t coursing through him, but his leg stings a lot more than it had before.

“It wouldn’t be your fault. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, I know the risks travelling with you, Geralt.” Jaskier wants to argue that Geralt’s never cared before, but he knows that isn’t true either. It’s just that Geralt cares more now. But he knows that Geralt isn’t going to admit to it either.

Jaskier sees the way that Geralt sets his jaw before he turns away again. He takes up Nekker’s head and ties it to Roach’s saddle before he pulls the mares rein over her head and strokes her neck slowly. “Get on,”

Jaskier doesn’t move for a moment, tears starting to sting in his eyes again. He’s hurt, he’s angry and he just wants Geralt to be honest with him for once. But he knows that’s too much to ask. He shakes his head and starts walking, fully planning on limping past Geralt. “I’ll walk.”

Geralt’s hand catches his wrist and he twists Jaskier around and forces the omega to face him. “Don’t be an idiot, just get on.”

“ _No_.” Jaskier snarls, yanking his arm out of Geralt’s hold. “You don’t get to pick and choose when to fucking care about me Geralt. So, make the fucking choice, do you care, or don’t you?”

And still, Jaskier can’t read a damn thing in the alpha’s eyes. His jaw works, grinding his teeth together. But it’s the only motion that shows at all on Geralt’s face. “Just get on the damn horse.”

“Fuck you, I’ll rip my heart open over and over again for you and you can’t even fucking admit that you care about me without it feeling like the words might kill you. You don’t want me around, so let me _leave_.” Jaskier almost spits, but his voice isn’t strong enough. It’s weak because the tears in his eyes that he’s trying to force back are blurring his vision, and he can’t get them to stop.

“Jaskier,” Geralt mutters, and it just sounds like a warning. Jaskier scoffs, a bitter sound as the tears finally fall, trailing hot down his cheeks. The omega turns away and starts walking, and his leg wasn’t burning, maybe he’d run.

He’s always opening himself up, he always allows himself to be vulnerable to Geralt, and he always gets hurt. And right now, he’s more than hurt, because Geralt nearly fucking _mated_ him, and now he’s acting like Jaskier doesn’t matter. What would have happened if he had slipped up, if he had sunk his teeth into Jaskier’s skin? He doesn’t want to think that maybe Geralt would still be acting this way, but he has no reason to think differently. So, he wants to run, because Geralt always wins, always hurts him and gets away with it, and he’s tired of being vulnerable around the Witcher. But he can’t, and deep down, he doesn’t want to. Because he wants Geralt to stop him, to grab hold of him and tell him not to leave, to say what Jaskier knows he wants to. But he won’t, and he doesn’t.

\- - -

Without a Witcher to tail, Jaskier’s path is uncertain and lonely. He’s not sure where to go, or where he even wants to go, so he just stops thinking about it entirely. Jaskier travels from town to town, making enough coin in each tavern to make the journey to the next. He does what he’s always done, since Julian became Jaskier, since before a Witcher came into his life and he foolishly allowed him to rip his life to pieces. He writes songs, he sings his heart out until his throat is raw and he moves on.

He stupidly forgets his suppressants again, the ones that Geralt had gotten him still with the Witcher, if he hadn’t disposed of them. He goes into heat again, and some desperate alpha offers to pay him to help him out. And Jaskier has nothing left to lose when he accepts the offer, even though he would have even without the offer of the man’s coin.

It’s the worst heat he goes through, worse than the ones he’s gone through without an alpha, worse than the very first heat he had after he presented. The alpha isn’t considerate, thankfully doesn’t try to mate him, but Jaskier knows with every touch to Jaskier’s belly that his thoughts go to the pups that he hopes to be giving him. Jaskier never says that he can stop thinking about it. And when the coiling in his gut finally stops, he sneaks out in the middle of the night, takes the risk and heads for the next town in the hopes that the alpha won’t follow after him.

It leaves him feeling empty because Geralt’s touch had been so much better, Geralt’s concern for what Jaskier wanted and needed was more than what the omega expected, and all he wanted was to feel Geralt’s body heat close to him, to smell the alpha, coated in the stench of whatever monster he’d killed last and the lingering scent of Roach on his skin.

It’s almost two months, which, all things considered, is not that long, when Geralt appears again. Jaskier hadn’t been searching for him, and he doubts that the alpha had been looking for him, and yet their paths still cross somehow. Jaskier is in the middle of his performance for a less than pleased tavern full of drunks. They don’t want to give up more than the smallest amount of their coin, but it’ll be enough for Jaskier to eat tonight, and he’s got a roof over his head so he doesn’t want to complain.

His head is lowered as he sings, fingers working over his lute almost lazily when he hears the door of the tavern open. And it’s not the sound of it opening that draws his attention, but the sudden hush that falls over everyone. And he could recognise that kind of silence anywhere, and the kind of person that would evoke it. He thinks about not even lifting his gaze, but the thought that maybe, somehow, it’s _not_ Geralt, that maybe it’s another Witcher or something is enticing. Part of him doesn’t want it to be Geralt, part of him does. Either way, curiosity gets the better of him, and he lifts his head.

He meets golden eyes instantly, and his heart feels like it strangles itself as Geralt stares back at him. His hair is a mess, looks like he’s been rolling around in the dirt since Jaskier left him, and there’s blood on his neck and armour. His shoulders are tense, and his lip twitches. He turns away and walks back out of the tavern. And the rational voice in Jaskier’s head tells him _good, he should leave_ , but the broken heart that still beats in his chest pulls him off of his stool. He makes haste as he collects up his things and dashes for the door, even when someone yells something out to him. He ignores it.

Jaskier shoves the door open and looks around frantically, heart in his throat. Geralt’s leading Roach away from the tavern, heading out toward the edge of the town, and all it would take would be for Geralt to haul himself up on that saddle and push Roach on and Jaskier would never be able to catch him. His feet carry him, his heart pounding so loud in his ears, and he has no idea what he’s going to say, but he knows that he can’t let Geralt walk away right now.

He knows that Geralt can hear as he runs after him, and knows that if the Witcher didn’t want to be stopped, Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to catch up to him. It sets a false sense of hope in Jaskier’s chest, where it blooms rapidly around his heart. He catches up, and gets himself in front of the alpha instantly, his heaving as he pants, and not from chasing after the Witcher. It’s the fear, the adrenaline pumping through him that has his fingers shaking and his breathing coming out too rushed for him to get a hold of himself.

His mouth opens, moves like it’s forming words, but his voice doesn’t catch up with it. Geralt’s as unreadable as ever, but he looks tired like Jaskier’s never seen him look. He swallows thickly, knowing that he has one shot and that he’s blowing it wasting time staring into the alpha’s eyes.

“Please,” And it’s not what Jaskier thought he would say, but it’s all he’s got right now.

“Don’t,” Geralt starts, and hearing his voice, how exhausted he sounds, and how he’s clearly ready to keep walking throws Jaskier into gear. And all the pain of the last few months festers into anger again and he grabs hold of Geralt’s arm to keep him where he is.

“You’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to get over whatever the fuck it is that keeps you from admitting your feelings. Because all I’ve felt has been pain, and anger and I’m not going to act like it’s my fault that you won’t stay with me.” Jaskier snaps, his fingers digging into armour, holding Geralt still here he stands. At least he hopes so because he knows that the Witcher could easily overpower him.

“Yes, okay, yes, I’m an omega, and by instinct, I want things from an alpha that you think you can’t give me. But as a person, I want you, regardless of what you can give me. I know that you think that I’m going to want pups, and… yes. I want them, but I can’t have any anyway. I… when I was younger, I was abused. I can’t conceive now, so it doesn’t matter which alpha I end up with, I’m never going to have pups.” And he’s never said it out loud to anyone else. He’s told people that he can’t conceive before, but that was as far as the conversation ever went, and then sex would happen. Finally telling someone else… it lifts a weight from his chest.

And it’s the first time that Jaskier sees something in Geralt’s eyes. Pain, sorrow, pity. Jaskier brushes it all off, clears his throat and averts his gaze. Finally, he can see something, and he doesn’t want to. “And you’re acting like we can’t be mated, but I have no idea why. Yes, what you do is dangerous, but you do everything you can to keep me safe, and I know that you would only get more protective if we were bonded.

“I love you, Geralt. Please don’t make me wish I didn’t when I know that you love me too.” And Jaskier’s voice cracks, but he doesn’t care. He looks back up at Geralt, with tears in his eyes, and his heart still in his throat.

Geralt’s mouth twitches, his eyes showing so much to Jaskier for the first time since the bard met him. Jaskier’s lips part, but Geralt steps into his space before he can say anything else. His hands come up to cup Jaskier’s face, and the omega whimpers pathetically, lifting his hands to cover Geralt’s own, clinging to him desperately.

“I’m sorry. You were right. I was a coward, and I wouldn’t let myself admit that I cared about you, that I do care about you. I couldn’t admit to myself that I had fallen in love with you, and I thought that I could walk away and leave you behind to keep you safe. But when it was you who left… I realised that nothing else should have mattered. I should have told you, I should have said I love you.” Geralt says, his voice lowered but firm. Like he wants to make sure that those words are only for Jaskier to hear. The bard’s chest feels too tight as he stares up at Geralt, squeezing the Witcher’s hands tight.

“Because I do, Julian. I love you.” Geralt repeats and the omega surges up into him. And he had been so desperate for Geralt to kiss him during his heat. He had wanted it so badly, and he had wanted to beg for it but held himself back. Now, kissing Geralt for the first time like this, after hearing those words from the alpha, he’s glad that he hadn’t. Because kissing him now is so much better.

He pushes his body firmly into Geralt’s own, kissing the Witcher like he’s never kissed anyone else. With so much passion, so much feeling and desperation. Geralt’s arms drop from his face and Jaskier’s arms come around his shoulders as Geralt grips around his waist and pulls them closer together. Jaskier’s body feels like it’s on fire, and as much as he wishes that he could continue to just kiss Geralt endlessly, he also knows not to push his own restraint. He pulls back with a small, unintentional whimper and rests his forehead against Geralt’s own.

“Say it again,” He asks, breathlessly. And maybe he’s pushing it, but if Geralt never says it again, hearing it once more right now, like this, would be worth it. Geralt snorts, his nose nuzzling against Jaskier’s own softly.

“I love you, Julian.” Geralt says, voice just as low and soft, just as perfectly.

“I love you too, Geralt.” And Jaskier knows that his voice is far too bubbly, too excited and happy but he doesn’t care. Because he is happy, because Geralt is with him, because Geralt loves him, and he loves Geralt, and finally, _finally_ , they’ve both admitted it.

“I’m sorry, for what I did to you.” Geralt says and Jaskier shakes his head.

“Shh, not now, okay? You’re forgiven, but not now.” He says as he pulls away just enough to meet Geralt’s eyes. Geralt gives a small nod, and his lip is curled up in a small smile. But it falters a little and he pulls back slightly.

“You left your suppressants with me, did you get more?” Geralt asks and Jaskier’s face heats up. He lowers his eyes and bites his lip.

“I forgot again,” He admits and even though he had every right to sleep with someone else, he feels a little pang of guilt for sleeping with another alpha, especially during his heat. He sees the way that Geralt tenses, feels the extra grip on his sides like he has every intention to pull Jaskier in against him and keep everyone away from him. “I’m fine, an… alpha paid me to sleep with me. I didn’t ask but when he offered… I didn’t want to turn it down. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be apologising to me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Geralt says, but his hold is still tighter than Jaskier would expect it to be. “So long as he didn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t, I promise,” Jaskier assures as he steps closer to Geralt again and wraps his arms around the back of his neck, pressing his face into Geralt’s chest. The alpha’s scent was calming and Jaskier could breathe so easily now that he was in Geralt’s arms, now that they were back together.

“Come, I’m guessing you’d gotten yourself a room at that tavern?” Geralt asks, and something about the question makes Jaskier’s chest tighten. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but the little curl to Geralt’s lip is giving him that hope. He chews the inside of his lip and steps back, trailing his hand down Geralt’s arm to grab hold of his hand.

“I had,” He admits truthfully. Geralt smiles, a true smile and takes Roach’s rein again. They head back to the tavern, and Jaskier waits with bated breath and his fingers toying with themselves as Geralt gets the mare set up at the stall before following the bard inside.

The second that they’re in the room Jaskier had paid for and the door is locked behind them, Geralt’s grabbing hold of the strap of Jaskier’s lute case. He pulls the omega closer to him by it before pulling it over his head and setting it down with more care than Jaskier might have thought he would. And then his hand is on Jaskier’s cheek and he’s leaning in to kiss him again.

Jaskier whimpers softly against his lips, his body rocking up into Geralt’s body as he clings to the alpha. Geralt’s hands come down his back and hook under his thighs, and without any effort, he hoists Jaskier up his body, resting his thighs on his hips. Jaskier’s legs wrap around Geralt’s waist instantly, like second nature as his hands tangle in Geralt’s hair.

Geralt grunts in the back of his throat when Jaskier tugs lightly on it, finding the tie and sliding it out of the strands. He wraps it around his fingers, hoping not to lose it. Geralt breaks the kiss, and Jaskier’s fingers come down his neck and grab hold of the medallion against Geralt’s chest. The points of the wolf head dig into his palm when he squeezes, but he doesn’t mind as cornflower blue meets golden amber.

“I wish I’d kissed you in that cabin,” Geralt admits, and Jaskier’s chest twists into a knot and pulls itself tight, squeezing a noise out of his throat.

“I wish you had too. I wanted you to, but I didn’t want to push you.” Jaskier says as he lowers his gaze to the medallion against his palm.

“You should have,”

“I know,”

Geralt tips his head up again and Jaskier leans down to kiss him once more. Geralt’s fingers flex against Jaskier’s thighs and he moves, carrying Jaskier across the room. Jaskier keeps his focus on kissing Geralt, on keeping himself wrapped almost completely around him as Geralt crawls onto the bed and lays the bard out under him.

It’s only when he feels the bed hit his back that Jaskier finally unwraps his legs from around Geralt’s body. He keeps his fingers tangled in Geralt’s medallion though when he breaks the kiss and looks up at the other. He smirks up at the alpha and gives the chain a small tug, even though it doesn’t even get Geralt to move in the slightest.

“You’re not going anywhere, Witcher.” He teases and Geralt’s gaze softens more than Jaskier would ever think that he’d let it. He leans in and kisses the side of Jaskier’s neck softly.

“I don’t plan to,” He murmurs. Geralt’s fingers slide under the bottom of Jaskier’s clothing and push it up his body slowly, dragging it up his torso. “But these have to come off,”

Jaskier chuckles and reluctantly releases his hold on Geralt’s medallion long enough to sit up and help Geralt get the clothing off. They’re tossed to the side and Geralt’s hands come to Jaskier’s chest, rough fingers running across the expanse of skin in front of him. Fingers trail up into the hair on Jaskier’s chest before trailing down to follow the line of it to Jaskier’s belly, and down into the hem of his pants. Geralt’s fingers stop at the hem, tease at dipping lower but don’t. Even when Jaskier rolls his hips up into Geralt’s touch.

“You’re gorgeous, and you smell amazing,” Geralt murmurs, leaning into Jaskier’s throat. The omega whimpers, tipping his head back to allow as much access as Geralt wants.

“I could say the same about you,” Jaskier hums, fingers trailing up the rough textures of Geralt’s armour. “But all this needs to come off too.”

Geralt chuckles and moves back, starting to work on the clasps and ties of his armour. Jaskier leans over to the little bedside table and drops Geralt’s hair tie there before he reaches for the Witcher’s medallion again and works it off through the mess of Geralt’s hair. Geralt’s eyes watch it, and Jaskier knows that the medallions hold a lot of significance to the Witcher’s. Which is why he pulls it over his own neck and lets it rest against his sternum.

“I’ll keep this out of the way for you,” He teases, but his smirk doesn’t get to do more than twitch to life before it falls again. Geralt’s movements have paused completely, and his eyes are still on the medallion. “Geralt?”

It’s like his name puts him in motion, and Geralt leans into Jaskier and kisses his skin where the chain meets it, trailing down to the medallion, kissing around it slowly before he kisses back up the other side of the chain. He reaches Jaskier’s neck again and a low growl emits from his throat. Jaskier shivers as Geralt’s hands roughly come up to hold his face, and he kisses the omega firmly, roughly, _deep_. Jaskier gasps at the intensity of it and gives back as rough as he gets.

“You’re mine, I want you to be mine,” Geralt says, his voice thick as he pulls Jaskier’s hips into his own, almost causing Jaskier to fall back onto the bed with the movement. Jaskier whimpers, trembling against Geralt as the Witcher’s hand slides down to press against the medallion against his chest. And Jaskier knows that his heart is almost beating out of his chest and that Geralt can feel it. “I never should have let you leave, I never should have ignored you. I was just scared. I was scared you’d get hurt, I was scared you were going to get killed. I was scared because I couldn’t give you a family, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted to give you.”

Jaskier’s chest is tight, his breath caught in his throat and his fingers are tight in Geralt’s hair, trying to keep up with the rush of emotions flowing from Geralt into him. The alpha pulls their bodies impossibly close together and he nuzzles Jaskier’s scent gland, his teeth grazing the area when his mouth opens and Jaskier gasps louder.

“Mating you is selfish, because your lifespan is nothing more than a speck compared to my own, I’d outlive you a hundred times. But I’ve never wanted an omega before, I’ve never felt like this, I’ve never loved like this. You’ve brought more life into me than anyone else has, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s jaw tightens, his chest squeezes itself and his eyes sting. His hold on Geralt only tightens more, fingers squeezing Geralt’s hair and the arm around his back grips his harder. He’s afraid to move, he’s afraid to _breathe_ because he had no idea that Geralt could have felt this way toward him at all. And he knows that none of this is new to the Witcher, this is something that’s been with him for a while, and he had no idea.

“Geralt, I don’t care what you think you _can’t_ give me, because you’re wrong. You’ve made me happy, you’ve kept me safe, and neither of us can have young of our own, but you’ve still given me a family. Even if it was just the two of us, that would be enough, but it’s so much more. Ciri, the other Witcher’s, yes even _Lambert,_ even Yen is part of this weird and wonderful family.” Jaskier chuckles softly, even though his throat is still tight with the threat of tears.

“I’m happy with you Geralt, being mated to you… I couldn’t think of a better alpha for me, truthfully.” Jaskier snuffles as he slowly pulls away from Geralt to look him in the eye. And it’s strange, but it’s a relief to see tears filling Geralt’s eyes too, even if the Witcher doesn’t allow them to fall.

Geralt’s lip twitches and he leans in to kiss Jaskier again, softly this time, without so much desperation. “You’d really want that?” He asks in a low voice and Jaskier smiles brighter and nods.

“I’d love that, Geralt.”

And alphas and omegas can’t mate outside of heats, but Geralt still turns his head into Jaskier’s neck and finally closes his teeth over Jaskier’s scent gland. The points of his teeth break Jaskier’s skin, and the feeling that shoots through the omega’s spine is unlike anything else he’s ever felt. He gasps, hips stuttering forward as his fingers bite into Geralt’s sides. And if he was worked up anymore, he’s sure that he would have come just from that sensation alone.

“Oh fuck, _Geralt_ ,” Jaskier moans, his eyes rolling closed as he tries to ruck his hips into Geralt’s own. There’s too much clothing between them, and Geralt’s fucking codpiece might be Jaskier’s least favourite thing right now. “Armour off, fucking off, please.”

Geralt scoffs, but it’s between low sounds that he’s making, and Jaskier realises that his own hips have been twitching up into Geralt’s, body shaking as his tongue laves against where teeth are set into flesh. And when he finally manages to break away, his eyes are blown, the gold of his irises almost completely consumed by the black of his pupils, and Jaskier shudders at how _animal_ it makes him look.

Geralt pushes Jaskier back against the bed, not roughly, but lays him out for him again. And the weight of the medallion against Jaskier’s chest is more noticeably like this, especially with Geralt’s eyes on it as he strips the bard of his pants and underclothes. Jaskier doesn’t move beside spreading his legs for the alpha, feeling the air cool the slick against his thighs and between his cheeks. Geralt sits back and finally gets his own clothes off. His armour hits the floor with a heavy thud, and his pants are quick to follow until they’re both completely naked. And it’s weird seeing Geralt like this, hair completely loose, framing his face even more than it normally wound, and chest bare without the wolf head between his pecs. Jaskier doesn’t mind the view, but it is different than when they’d last been in bed together.

He reaches out as Geralt crawls over him, his hands coming to Geralt’s sides instantly as the alpha leans over him and kisses up his neck. And Geralt’s fingers move down between his thighs, nudging them open wider, trailing up his slick and begin teasing Jaskier’s hole slowly as he mouths at the bite mark he’d left in Jaskier’s neck.

“Geralt… fuck,” Jaskier sighs, tipping his head a little. Geralt hums against his skin, shifting his weight to straddle one of Jaskier’s thighs. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, and when he adjusts his angle, it slides slowly up the skin of Jaskier’s thigh. Jaskier pushes his leg up more, giving Geralt better friction that the alpha appreciates, if the noise that leaves his lips is any indication.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad, I wanted to give you that, but I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.” Geralt murmurs as his lips trail up Jaskier’s jaw, hovering over the omega’s lips. “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from you if I gave in. I knew I would have claimed you.”

“Then give in,” Jaskier whispers and Geralt _whines_ , like Jaskier never had thought the Witcher could, and he presses their lips together. In the same action, Geralt sinks two fingers easily into Jaskier’s slick hole.

The omega shivers, keeps his leg between Geralt’s thighs as the other spreads him wider. He’s more than ready, the build-up to this has had his body ready for Geralt’s cock for too long now. All the emotions and confessions, all the kissing and pressing together, moving together, the way that Geralt so easily can put his hands on his body and tear him down, pull him apart and open and inspect every inch of his being, of his body and his soul. Jaskier’s never been more ready in his life.

“Please,” Jaskier moans against Geralt’s lips, and Geralt nods, withdrawing his fingers. He pulls back so that he can adjust his position. He sits Jaskier’s thighs atop his own, lining his cock up with Jaskier’s hole. And this is so much better, being able to see Geralt rather than staying on his hands and knees for him. Not that he didn’t like that either, but this is what he wanted more than anything during his heat.

Geralt pauses for a moment, his eyes trailing over Jaskier’s body. His hand slides up Jaskier’s body and covers the medallion against his chest, fingers curling around it as he stares at Jaskier. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and you’ve made it better than I could have ever hoped, better than my dreams.”

Jaskier smiles up at Geralt, his lips parting, ready to speak. Geralt slides into his body, and his words get cut off momentarily by the sigh that leaves his throat. Jaskier tips his head back a little, but he forces his eyes to stay open so that he can watch the way that Geralt’s eyes slide closed. His head tips to the side slightly, his lips part on a soft moan, and his body rocks forward, melding into Jaskier’s own.

“I’ve never wanted someone like I’ve wanted you, Geralt.” Jaskier manages, between little hitches in his breath from the pleasure curling itself around his insides. Geralt’s lip easily curls into a smile and he leans over Jaskier fully and starts thrusting into him.

The drag of his cock is slow but firm, rocking into his body perfectly. The angle could be better, with the way that Geralt is hunched over, it allows for them to be closer, and Jaskier is fine with the compromise. Because it still feels incredible, and it’s easy for him to reach up and tug Geralt down by his hair to kiss him again. So, he does. Geralt’s fingers curl around his medallion just as tight as Jaskier’s fingers twist in his hair, and their kisses are slow but rough, matching the thrusts of their bodies moving together.

Jaskier’s free hand comes down to his cock, and he didn’t realise how much he was leaking against his belly until he strokes himself, and he feels how wet he is. He whimpers against Geralt’s mouth and strokes himself in time with Geralt’s thrusts.

The Witcher shifts, pushing himself closer to Jaskier’s body, his arms moving up. His elbows press into the bed on either side of Jaskier’s head, and his hands come under the bard’s head, holding him steady. And the grip is more intimate than anything that Jaskier has ever felt. And he contemplates abandoning the grip on his cock to wrap his arms under Geralt’s own to cling to his back.

But Geralt’s thrusts become firmer, still slow but they hit a lot harder, _deeper_ , and Jaskier’s hand speeds up on his cock. He’s panting against Geralt’s lips, and Geralt’s moaning softly into the space between them, his head tipping down slowly, unintentionally until his mouth is pressed to Jaskier’s jaw.

“You feel amazing, you _are_ amazing, Jaskier.” Geralt murmurs softly, turning his head to press his face more into the omegas neck. “I love you, and I should have told you that from the moment I realised I did. I love you, Julian, I love you.”

Jaskier’s chest feels like it swells too much, feels too full as he clings to Geralt finally, unable to stop himself. His nails bite into Geralt’s skin, his face presses hard into Geralt’s shoulder and he clings like he depends on it. He shakes against Geralt’s body and tries not to allow himself to sob from all of the emotions coiling inside his chest.

“Geralt, Geralt… I love you too, fuck, I’ve loved you for so long.” Jaskier whimpers, keeping his eyes closed in the hopes that the tears might not escape. Geralt’s arms come around his body tight, holding them firmly together as he thrusts faster into Jaskier’s body. His mouth meets Jaskier’s scent gland again, and he kisses the area firmly.

“I could never tell you just how much I love you,” He states before his teeth are sinking into Jaskier’s flesh again. Jaskier cries out, the sensation of another bite paired with the pleasure of Geralt inside him is too intense. And Geralt saying that, and the way that he says it, it tells more than Geralt probably thinks.

Jaskier turns his own head into Geralt’s neck, nuzzles into his scent gland before he bites into Geralt’s own firmly. Geralt moans, teeth sinking into Jaskier’s neck harder and the omega whimpers, doubling his own efforts.

Geralt comes first, hips colliding with Jaskier’s own hard as he pushes in deep and Jaskier feels the alpha’s knot swelling inside him. He pulls off of Geralt’s neck, head tipping back as he cries out, his cock throbbing before he comes, harder than he even came during his heat with Geralt. And he knows it’s the pheromones from their bites that has him feeling light-headed, eyes unfocused as his head lays back against the pillow, tipped so far back that he couldn’t stop the noises from pouring out of his mouth even if he wanted to.

He must white-out for a moment because when he refocuses, it’s with a whine, his hole clenching around the alpha’s knot, still buried inside him so deep, keeping Geralt’s come in his body. And Geralt’s laying at his side, with Jaskier’s back laying half on his chest and _how_ Geralt moved there, he doesn’t know, but it’s nice being able to tip his head back and rest it against Geralt’s collarbone.

Jaskier tilts his head to look up at Geralt, meeting his soft gaze and lazy smile. Jaskier returns it and lifts his chin slightly. Geralt dips his head and kisses Jaskier softly. Jaskier’s body finally catches up to the feeling of Geralt’s fingers stroking over his belly, and he hums, satisfied with the feeling.

“How do you feel?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier hums, closing his eyes because holding them open takes up too much energy.

“Amazing,” He feels like he’s in heaven, and he knows that he usually feels like he’s floating after sex, but this is so different. He nestles back into Geralt more with a content noise. Geralt’s hand slides up higher and his fingers come to the medallion still around Jaskier’s neck. He toys with it lightly, and Jaskier’s hand comes up slowly to rest over Geralt’s own.

“What about you?” He asks, even though his voice is low and a little unsteady. Geralt chuckles and nuzzles the bard’s temple.

“Well, I’m knotted with probably the most stunning omega on the continent. So, I’m doing pretty good myself.” He says, and Jaskier feels his smile against the side of his head. Jaskier grins and slots his fingers between Geralt’s own, covering the medallion completely in their hold.

“Don’t boost my ego that much, alpha.”

“It’s only the truth.” Geralt hums. Jaskier’s chest tightens and he slowly opens his eyes. He looks up at Geralt again, and he can’t deny how gorgeous the Witcher is. His hair is a mess, and god, he needs a fucking bath, and yet he’s still so enchanting that Jaskier can’t turn away, even if he wanted to. His eyes are soft, looking like he could doze off any second, and his lips, plumper and pink, kiss bitten, than Jaskier’s ever seen them are curled in the barest of fond smiles. Jaskier leans in enough to nuzzle his nose against Geralt’s own, before he looks up at the Witcher again.

“Was all of it the truth, did you really mean it?” He asks softly. Not because he thinks that Geralt would lie to him, but because the confirmation would set this in stone for him, it would make it feel so much more real.

Geralt grunts and hums softly, leaning in to kiss him. His lips feel perfect in that moment, despite how rough they are. He snuggles into Jaskier properly, tucking his head into the omega’s shoulder and kisses the bite mark in his skin as his arms tighten around Jaskier’s body.

“I’ll mark you every day until I can mate you, and every day after that, to prove to you that I meant all of it.”

Jaskier bites into his bottom lip and suppresses a whimper as he nuzzles into the pillow that smells like them, that smells like their sex, their _love_. And he smiles wide because he knows that Geralt does mean it and that there won’t be a day in his life that he won’t be without the alpha now.

They belonged together, and he knew that Geralt would keep to his word. They were bonded already; he was Geralt’s and Geralt was his.


End file.
